


I was singing this song to you

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, F/M, Jazz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the gin joints in all the universe - but isn't that always the way?  The Doctor meets River in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was singing this song to you

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: sometime after "The Wedding of River Song" and the "First Night" clip  
> A/N: River is singing [this Carmen McRae](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqVRjE6Y0ew) song, because it's been on my River/Doctor playlist forever. Loosely based on a prompt from Lizardbeth about River being a pop star - I just love jazz. I don't think this lines up properly with the Nights, but I don't have the heart to sort it out.  
> Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

The Doctor was sulking over a glass of tonic, or whatever passed for the local equivalent. He wasn't big on gin, but he liked a bit of fizz. He'd had to send back two drinks for being too drink-y already. And that was just from the bartender - he had a few more at his elbow that he was studiously ignoring. He was ignoring everyone and everything in the bar except his fizzy water. There was a band striking up, something soft and jazzy and deliciously melancholy, which suited his mood perfectly, but he was ignoring them too. There wasn't much point to jazz when he had no one to share it with, and he was exceptionally alone tonight. He barely registered it when someone stepped up to the microphone, until she began to sing.

"I've been so many places in my life and times," she sang, the lyrics pouring out as rough and sweet as whiskey fumes. The Doctor sat transfixed. He knew that voice. The words swirled around him, hardly registering. "There is no one more important to me. Can't you see through me? We were alone, and I was singing this song to you."

She looked directly at him. "River," he said, the word torn out of him. But he said it quietly in a noisy bar, and she dropped her eyes and kept singing. He lost track of the songs; the tunes were familiar, but the pain in them was even more so. He sipped his way through three glasses of fizz before her set was over. She accepted her applause graciously, a queen among her subjects, and made her way to the bar as if they'd planned to meet there. He turned on his stool to face her as she sat down. 

"Hello, sweetie," she said in a low voice full of promise. 

"River," he said. "You weren't waiting for me, I hope."

"Ah, now that would be an exercise in futility," she said, sipping at one of his extra drinks.

"Where are we, you and I?" he asked. "Have we done the Byzantium?"

"Sounds fascinating," she said. "But I'm afraid not."

"The Pandorica?" he guessed. "Demon's Run?"

"Those old fairy tales?" She took a longer drink this time.

"That's a no," he said. "Then I haven't the faintest idea why you're vexed with me."

"That first night in the TARDIS," she said. "It's been the last night so far."

"Ah," he said, wincing. "Well. That would explain it. But look at you. I told you that River Song could walk in and out of the Storm Cage any time she liked, and here you are."

"Yes, you were right about that," she said. "But there isn't all that much to do when most of your former colleagues are convinced you're an unabashed villain. So I come here, and they're desperate enough for a taste of Earth to let me sing."

"You were brilliant," he assured her.

She smirked. "You're too kind, Doctor. This isn't anything like the Sands."

He looked around. "It's a nice enough place," he hazarded.

"Look again, Doctor," she said. "It's an absolute den of sin." She smirked. "I feel right at home."

He gazed at her. "It was a lovely song, River. They were all nice, but I particularly liked that first song."

"The stars were lovely that night," she said. "That very first night two years ago. But the tricky thing about stars is that so many of them are dead and gone before you ever see their light. I think I know how they feel sometimes."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've made a mess of things again. But I'm always...consuming people's lives. I didn't want to swallow yours whole."

"It's a long time since Berlin," she said. "I've been to university. I've made a life for myself. I've stopped time for the man I love. And he can't spare a few minutes for me."

He sighed. "I intend to come," he told her. "Every night. But the TARDIS doesn't always cooperate and I lose track of the time, you know."

"I suppose that happens when you've got an endless span of it," she said, rattling the ice in her glass. "But some of us only have one life, anymore. I know you were ashamed of me, but I did think our marriage was something a little more than a convenient way to repair my mistakes." She wouldn't look at him.

"Oh, River, _River_ ," he said, aching to reach out for her. "Of course I wasn't ashamed. How could I be ashamed of you?"

"I can think of a few reasons," she said. "For starters, I tried to kill you."

Now he was the one who couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm not a kind man, dear. You'd come up with a clever plan that was at odds with my clever plan. I was trying to make you angry so you'd touch me and end the rift. But it was incredible, that beacon. You made it out of nothing and it meant everything to me. I should have thanked you instead." He touched her arm. "I should have thanked you endlessly."

"It isn't too late to start," she said, still gazing into her glass. 

The Doctor sat up and straightened his bow tie. "River Song," he said, and finally she looked up. His hearts thudded at the hurt and uncertainty in her eyes - his River, who could probably stop time by glaring at it hard enough. "Thank you for your clever plan. Thank you for loving me more than anyone ever in the whole of the universe. Thank you for being cleverer than anyone ever, especially cleverer than this old man. Thank you for your lives and your time. Thank you for your company tonight."

"You're welcome," she said with a very small, very lopsided smile.

"I hadn't finished," he said. "I think I shall probably never be finished." He brushed the backs of his fingers against hers. "Thank you for being the person I look for in every crowd, everywhere, just in case. Thank you for being my right hand for every deed I can't face alone. Thank you for every night we'll spend together - and this is a spoiler, but there will be so many, River. Thank you for watching over your parents when I couldn't. Thank you for murdering me, both times. And most of all, every minute, thank you for marrying me."

She laughed a curt little laugh. "That was the easy part."

"I'm sure it wasn't," he said. "I'm sure it isn't. I don't make much of a husband, I'm afraid. I never have done. I'm a grumpy old man and I'm rarely in the right place at the right time. I'll never be finished thanking you and I'll never be finished apologizing and I'll never be finished making more reasons I need to apologize."

"Well, it's only fair. I can't guarantee I'll never try to murder you again," she said, her smile a little crooked and more than a little wicked.

"All part of the fun," he assured her, enjoying the spark in her eyes. 

"Will there really be more nights?" she asked. 

"Loads," he said. "Oh, River, nearly endless nights. I promise. I'll have a word with the TARDIS. I won't lose time again."

"I thought she liked me," River said with regret.

"Frankly, she adores you. Flies better for you than for anyone, including me," the Doctor told her, more than a little embarrassed. He pushed a hand through his hair, ruffling up the back. "It's always my fault. I should set an alarm."

"I thought the alarms were my job," River teased. 

"And I'm sure you keep them ringing, dear," he told her. "I wouldn't have it any other way." 

She ducked her head and smiled at him. There was something in the sudden sweetness of her expression that made his hearts ache. She seemed so ageless, but she wasn't particularly far along in her personal timeline. 

"I forget sometimes that you're so young," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I certainly look older than twenty-five," she said. "Somewhere between twenty-five and thirty is what I can remember. Bit difficult to keep track of the birthdays, I have to say."

"Yes, I'd imagine the Silence weren't big on celebrations," he muttered. 

"Between that and the time travel, I haven't had a birthday," she agreed. "Of course, I'd be further along if someone hadn't scooped me up off the streets of New York."

Now he was the one who couldn't meet her eyes. "I had to delegate," he said. "A child on entirely the wrong continent from the rest of her family. Canton was the right man for the job. I'm sorry about the vortex manipulator. It isn't a pleasant way to travel."

"At least I ended up in the right decade," she said. "Even a resourceful six-year-old can't do much traveling on her own, and the only way to get from the 60s to the 80s was to live those years otherwise. I wasn't meant for New Wave."

"I was the least I could do," he said, looking into her eyes. "River, I would have spared you if I could."

"And you would have unmade me," she said. "I wouldn't have thanked you for that, Doctor, no matter how pleasant it would have been. I wouldn't have been River Song, and I've fought hard for every moment of this life."

"I know," he told her. "And you are magnificent."

"Yes," she said, smiling to herself now, "I am."

"Come with me," he said, trying to make his voice sound light rather than yearning. "I'll make it up to you, all those lonely nights."

"I don't tally up your debts, Doctor," she told him. "That's no way to sustain a marriage. It's the nights without you that make me who I am. 'The Doctor's wife' contains quite a bit but it's a cage all the same, if I don't choose it for myself."

"Still," he said. "Come with me, River, please." 

"I'm not in need of saving anymore, Doctor," she said, tilting her head. 

"Oh, but I am," he breathed. He wanted to tell her how lost he was without her, how the days he spent with her anchored him. He wanted to tell her how he treasured every minute with her. He wanted to hoard her time the way Kazran had hoarded Abigail's, making absolutely certain that they lived every moment to the fullest. But then she would know that he was hiding something, clever River, and more than likely guess that it was her end. 

"That isn't how it works, sweetie," she told him. "I can't be your human credential. I'm barely human as it is."

"Be my partner," he suggested. "My confidante. I won't ask you to keep me in line, River. I only want you to walk the line next to me."

"It's nearly morning," she said, pushing away the melted remains of her first drink and picking up a different glass. "Another night."

"I've got a time machine," he reminded her. "I'll have you back before dawn, if it's ever dawn there. We can make any night last forever."

"Nothing lasts forever," she said. "And besides, I made a promise." She put her hand over his and he stroked her wrist softly with his thumb. "Come tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he said. "Yes, brilliant. Tomorrow." His mind raced. "We'll go to a party. There will probably be fish, if I remember correctly. Have you got any gowns? Nevermind, stupid question, and anyway there's always something in the wardrobe."

"How's a girl supposed to resist an offer like that?" she asked softly, taking a last swallow of her drink. "A party with fish?"

"The first of many," he promised. 

"Then I'll see you tomorrow night," she said, slipping off her stool. She leaned in and kissed him, her lips soft and cool. It was positively tame by her standards, brief and light, but he nearly swooned off his stool when she stepped back, his body yearning toward hers. 

"I look forward to it," he said, grasping the bar to hold himself up. She smiled and was gone. He stayed on his stool for a few minutes, twirling back and forth. The TARDIS would take him there, surely, to the right place and time. He'd give her a night to remember. 

"And then you just watch us run, Doctor Song," he murmured, picking up the last dregs of his fizzy drink. "Time won't even know what to do with you."

He drained his glass and strolled across the bar. The doors of the TARDIS opened at a snap of his fingers. And then the madman was gone along with his box, off to meet his fate.


End file.
